Sammy's Stage
by Rightor
Summary: When Sam comes home with the news that he's going to be in a play, Dean doesn't take it well. He forgets about his promise to himself to make Sam's childhood the best that he could seeing as his was destroyed at his feet, and completely shatters Sam's optimism about the show. When Sammy continues with his production, however, without Dean's knowledge, things take a turn.


**A/N: Real quick drabble. Got the idea out of the blue and decided to do something with it. Quite early in the morning and is 100 percent the product of pure boredom. Will most likely be checked over and edited once I've gotten a good deal of sleep, but as for now, I hope you enjoy! PS: Please excuse and grammar errors and or spelling! :)**

Dad was gone, off on another hunt, and he'd be gone for quite some time. Sammy was young, just hitting the age of six as his birthday was two weeks away, and Dean had decided long ago that he'd do everything in his power to give Sam what he hadn't gotten; a childhood. Unfortunately, it took Dean a while to remember this promise and now his brother was by himself, most likely scared shitless.

The brothers were stationed at an old, worn out hotel with cracked windows and broken vents when Sam flailed out of the bathroom, his hair dripping of water and his towel barely holding onto his waist. Dean hadn't been in their room for more than ten minutes before his brother bashed through the bathroom door and ran towards him like a madman. Sam's towel almost dropped right off his body, but thanks to his older brother's quick movements, was saved and had his towel now more securely wrapped around his abdomen. His grin was still bright as Dean moved away from him, standing and giving the child a questioning glare as to why Sam almost knocked over him and why he looked as if he had just solved the world's problems.

"Dean!" He squealed, his shaggy set of hair sending droplets of water flying left and right as Dean wiped a few from his face.

"What? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I have to tell you something!"

Dean rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath and dropping his tightened shoulders that were stiff with nerves. "What could be so important that you almost mooned me and half the parking lot?"

He gestured to the huge window that had the view of the hotel's lot. The curtains that supposedly gave the boys privacy were nothing more than long sheets of saran wrap and the fact the bay window was so damn big made things all that much worse.

"I got in!" The little boy laughed, his eyes shining with pure excitement.

Dean, although he wouldn't admit it, was beginning to get anxious, a little bit excited himself seeing his brother so happy about something. Sammy had be complaining for days about why they didn't have a normal house like the rest of the kids at their school, why their food was always either in cans or at crappy shacks that sold it, or why they didn't have a mother. The little boy was quite observant for a boy his age and was always asking questions, but never really about their personal life a few days back. Sometimes his curious personality got him into trouble with their father, as he'd question their dad's, John's, orders or commands. Regardless, Sammy for the last few days had been none stop nagging and sulking about their shitty life and was quite depressed, so seeing him in such a frenzy of excitement brought a little happiness to Dean. Not that he'd admit that, ever, of course.

"Where?"

"My school's play!"

His heart stopped. A _play_? Who in their right mind likes _plays_? And to be apart of one?! Now that was just unsensible. Unreasonable. Even for Sammy who'd argue that cake and pie were relatively the same thing. Dean scoffed for a minute, shaking his head and completely oblivious to the obvious fading of excitement and happiness on his brother's face. His smile was shrinking and his eyes that were squinted up with such joy beginning to grow wide with the reality his older brother, the guy he idolized and thought would be proud, wasn't happy. Disappointed, even, was what it looked like.

"What about Dad? What about when he comes back and we gotta' pick up and leave and that... _play_ ," He spat the word out, "doesn't have the character or whatever you do there to play the role?"

"But I-"

"No, Sammy, just..." He trailed off, tracing his scalp with his fingers quickly and shaking his head, "Just imagine what Dad'd do if he found out you wanted to do a _play_."

"Stop saying it like that."

"Stop saying what like what?"

"Play. It's not that hard of a word, Dean, and it's not gross either. It's quite fun, really." The little boy was now standing there, sad eyes as he looked up hopelessly at his older brother who he'd knew wasn't going to change his opinion on the performance. As reality and his brother's judging gaze fell on him, the cold breeze of that stupid AC in the corner kicked in and he rubbed his shoulders, realizing his entire upper and technically lower body was bare. He bit his lip sadly, knowing his brother had a point, and walked back into the bathroom sadly.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Isabelle, the director of the play, asked as they all gathered to the front of the small stage in the cafeteria for the first rehearsal. Unlike the rest of his crew and cast-mates, he wasn't in costume and had a melancholy, glum look on his face.

"I can't be Oliver Twist, Izzy." He refused to break his intense gaze from the floor, "I'm sorry."

"What?" She gasped, "Sam, please! You were the best for the role and I set everything up accordingly and everyone has a certain spot in this production, you can't bail now!"

"I-"

"The play's next week. There's like... three scenes. Please, I'm begging you..."

And that's how Sam was suckered into being Oliver Twist for Isabelle's play despite his brother's warnings and scoldings.

It seemed as if that week flew by, and God, Sam was sure that was the best week of his life. He had had so much fun acting and performing and cracking jokes with his mates behind the curtains before he, always on cue, appeared and played his part. When he got back to the hotel, he was sure not to let it slip and tried to act as sad and gloomy as he could. He assumed it played off as Dean didn't push more on the play thing, but rather if he was okay and if he was feeling well. He attempted to play the sick card, but Dean was smarter than that and after a few times checking his temperature declared Sam dramatic and diva-ish before slaving over to the small kitchenette in the corner to make dinner.

He wasn't sure what exactly sure what he'd do the night of the play though. The performance was at eight at night and under the watchful eye of his brother, there was absolutely no way he was getting out of that hotel without being caught. And yeah, maybe he could place a few pillows under a bed and hope for the best, but knowing Dean, his best wasn't good enough. Dean knew everything, and nothing got past him. So, that night, approximately an hour and a half before the show began, Sam slumped up to Dean and pulled off his best puppy-dog expression before beginning;

"It's tonight?"

"Hm?"

Dean was real busy that night, getting a call from their father hours early ordering him to find lore on some greek mythological monster, so Sam hoped he could sneak the fact his play was tonight right under his older brother's nose.

Taking a breath, he blurted, "The play. It's tonight. In about ninety minutes or so, so I have to go... like now. Cool? Cool. See you in a bi-"

"Woah." Dean growled, his attention turning away from the book and onto his baby brother, "Lemme' get this straight, you've gotta play tonight that I specifically told you you can't do."

Sam looked up, all puppy-doe-eyed and pouted his bottom lip out slightly, "I'm sorry, I just... they really needed me and... I'm sorry, De."

Dean glared, angry his brother would so carelessly wave off his words as if they meant nothing. He had told Sam no, yet the boy went out and did what he wanted too anyway. Growling, Dean stood and refused to make eye-contact with Sam, "Whatever. Be back by eleven."

It was the shortest ending to a conversation Sam and Dean had ever shared. Dean wasn't one to cut things short with his brother, liked to get the details and know things that sometimes the person he was asking didn't even know. So the fact that he had so quickly dismissed his brother went to show not only how angry he was, but hurt.

The crowds began coming in around seven and that left the cast and crew with thirty minutes left. Isabelle was too busy directing people to where they had to go to confirm Sam's questions on a few lines, so he decided to wing it. Although all his friends were smiling and grinning and everyone seemed to be so excited, his stomach felt hollow and weak and churned and upset, as if someone had punched him or he had barfed up all his lunch. It wasn't a nice feeling and he was more than positive it was because he went behind his brother's back. Sure, it wasn't anything catastrophic, just a mere play, but Dean and Sam both knew that trust between the Winchesters was a sacred bond and the fact he broke it made his stomach twist more.

Attempting to shoo off the god-awful knotting that was forming from his throat down, he focused on the applauds coming from the tolerant parents and excited siblings as Isabelle said her thank-yous and asked for everyone to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

The only issue was... when the curtains open- there was no show. The strong, white light, flashed on Sammy like a beam, his eyesight going blank as all he could focus on was that brightness shining at him. He could hear a few murmurs in the audience and a few coughs reminding him of the anxious people waiting for a show which only made his palms grow that much sweatier. He had lines... didn't he? Oh god, what were those? His head began to scramble as he began to panic, all the attention on him. His vision began to adjust to the lighting allowing him more visual freedom as he scanned the audience. There had to be hundreds. It looked like thousands! Tons of people filled the rows of metal chairs, women holding babies and small toddlers, grandparents filming on modern technology the couldn't work, fathers attempting to shush their young children and teenagers' faces lighting up in the dark audience thanks to their bright phones.

This was too much. His heart was slamming against his ribcage, his feet were losing balance, his neck and hands were feeling clammy, his head was beginning to spin and his vision was beginning to black. His breath was soon coming out in shallow puffs and everything seemed as if it was going absolutely horrifically when there was a loud creak of the auditorium doors and all the parents and children turned to see who it was. There, there stood Dean Winchester, his big brother trying to be as quiet as possible whispering a few sorrys as he shut the door, it making a loud clicking sound as it shut and him taking a seat in the back. His eyes locked with his brother and Dean gave a smile, a quick wave, and a thumbs up.

And just like that, everything seemed to fall back into his head. His lines, his placements, his dance-moves and lyrics and fight scenes and props. Everything, like puzzle pieces began to fit back together and before he knew it, the play was over and everyone in the audience was screaming and hollering and hooting and whistling. They absolutely adored it! Isabelle, himself, and the rest of the crew quickly gathered into a line before they all grabbed hands, stretched upwards, and all took a very dramatic bow before squealing to themselves that they had done it and going off to their parents to celebrate. Not Sammy though. No, he was going to someone who was better than any parent or superhero or best friend or babysitter.

He was going to his badass, big brother Dean.

"You did it! That was incredible!" Dean applauded as Sammy ran into his older brother's arms, grinning brightly and laughing.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" He laughed as he ruffled up Sam's hair, "You were better than half the kids up there."

A few parents turned at that statement but Dean could careless. He wasn't sure when, but sometime after Sam had left he had gotten punched in the face with the thought that Sam was only seven and he was so damn excited about this play. God only knows how long his innocence will last as his father has been practically itching to tell Sammy all about the supernatural but has been delayed due to his elder son's protests, so he might as well enjoy Sam's stupid plays and dumb rehearsals now while they're still there. He grinned brightly at his brother, so proud that his baby brother was the one who had blown the entire roof off of the building and laughed, "That's your stage, you owned it!"

Sam couldn't help but let the swarming feel of pride invade his chest as his brother said that. With a last glance towards that wooden stage, he and his brother walked out- himself smiling like an utter dork, and his older brother more proud than he could've ever been.


End file.
